A Scandal In Sherlock's Dressing Gowns
by DarkNScarrie
Summary: This is a Sherlock fic I wrote for a competition on Facebook. It depicts "A Scandal In Belgravia" in the POV of Sherlock's dressing gowns! :D Please Read and Review : T for... well... Sherlock..?


**Author'****s**** Note:** Hi guys, this is a Sherlock fic that I wrote for a Facebook competition between the pages that represent Sherlock and John's specific items of clothing. We had to write an episode of Sherlock (A Scandal In Belgravia was voted for by our fans). Yeah I know its a wierd idea, but we had fun! My page is .com/pages/Benedict-Cumberbatchs-Extensive-Dressing-Gown-Collection/426376740721425 so this is in the POV of Sherlock's dressing gowns :D Please read and review! :) Feel free to point out any errors that you spot.

**A Scandal in Sherlock's Dressing Gowns**

Police sirens! Excellent! There had had been a lot of them around Baker Street lately. Hopefully that means that the Yard will keep coming round to 221B to give Sherlock Holmes, my owner, a good case to solve. Don't get me wrong; he's a great friend and companion! Just, when he's bored... Well... He'll make sure that you know about it!

He was drinking coffee reading the paper in search of an interesting case. Walking towards John; he asked "What are you typing?"

It was John's blog of course. It always is! The man's obsessed! "About?" he questioned John.

"Us." replied John.

Sherlock smirked slightly. "You mean me." he corrected. John looked up suddenly. He looked confused and a little angry.

"Why?" he said; almost daring Sherlock to answer him.

"Well you're typing a lot..." John wasn't sure how to react but luckily the doorbell rang before he could answer anyway.

"Right, then!" Sherlock announced. "So... What've we got?"

He slammed the mug down on the desk and flung me down onto the couch quite roughly in his hurry to answer the door. Ouch!

As it happened, it hadn't actually been necessary to answer the door. It'd just been some boring, mundane or deluded possible client with a rubbish, uninteresting case that Sherlock had of course flatly refused to take. Nothing seemed to be good enough for The Great Sherlock Holmes at the moment.

Anyway, a few easily solved cases later, Sherlock was out on a limb yet again. Oh well, I had thought. Something else had been bound to turn up soon, and believe me; something did.

Sherlock really did not understand what jokes were. For example, when John had been writing up the case about the fair haired woman with red patches on her skin, and he had named the case "The Speckled Blonde", Sherlock had laughed with disdain at John's choice of words. I'd thought that it was rather funny, actually! I think John was just relieved that his flat mate was actually eating for once so he had let slide.

Oh that sheet! I hate it I hate it I hate it! Not only had Sherlock not bothered to get dressed, (which was relatively normal behaviour for him,) but he had completely ignored me and just fallen out of bed wearing the sheet! It isn't even that comfortable! Or warm! Anyway, I'm the one who's meant to help him when he works from home! Not that pathetic excuse for a material!

I'd even found out later on that it had accompanied Sherlock to Buckingham Palace! So unfair! At least Mr Hudson washes me more often...

Sherlock finally had a case. An important one at that, or at least that's what I could tell anyway. So important that Sherlock had gone through almost all of his clothes looking for the right disguise! I could see all the clothes smirking and silently laughing at me. I had been left, abandoned near the corner of the couch. Hello! I'm over here! I thought. I wanted desperately to get picked to go on a case with him. That'd show the sheet who was boss. I wondered what exactly was taking him so long to get dressed and apparently John had been too because he soon asked.

"Important battle john," Sherlock insisted as he examined himself in the mirror whilst wearing a high visibility jacket. "I need the right armour!"

The boys returned home quite a lot later; John was dragging Sherlock into the bedroom and had dumped him on the bed fully clothed. He then proceeded to check Sherlock's pulse and vitals carefully for any signs of going into shock. I deduced that the detective must have been injected with some harmful substance or other. Oh dear.

An hour or so later, a strange woman had snuck into Sherlock's room and hung his coat up on a hook attached to the back of the door. The coat twitched irritably. Good! She could keep it for all I cared. A floor board creaked loudly and the television was muted outside. The woman looked around quickly and Sherlock stirred restlessly. She leant over him.

"Hush now, it's okay, I'm only returning your coat." she reassured him and he seemed to fall back to sleep. She leapt over to the window vanished into the night sky.

Suddenly, though, Sherlock awoke abruptly and called out for John in panic.

"Gah!" he muttered and fell out of bed flat on his face, still wearing his shirt, trousers and even shoes. John walked in the door and asked Sherlock if he was ok.

"How did I get here" Sherlock slurred drunkenly whilst trying in vain to get up off the floor.

John sighed and stepped a little further into the messy room. "Well, I umm don't suppose you remember much... You weren't making a lot of sense..." he explained half-heartedly. "Oh, I should warn you, I think Lestrade filmed you on his phone..." By the look on John's face, I guessed that something embarrassing must have happened.

Sherlock swayed woozily and John looked concerned.

"Huh... Where is she?" Sherlock muttered, clearly confused by the whole situation which was very unlike him. Wow, whatever that woman gave him must've been very strong! John blinked and stared at him worriedly.

"Where's who?"

Sherlock groaned; frustrated with John and his ignorance as usual. This time however, I was completely on John's side. Sherlock really was not making any sense at all.

"The woman; that woman." he groaned.

"What woman?"

"The woman! The woman woman!" Sherlock insisted and almost fell over again in his hurry to survey the area.

John suddenly grasped Sherlock's meaning.

"Oh Irene Adler! She, umm, got away, no one saw her. She wasn't here Sherlock..?"

Sherlock started crawling under the bed and John quickly grabbed at his feet and dragged him back, cursing and yelling. He tucked Sherlock into bed and through the sheet over him.

"You'll be fine in the morning." he reassured Sherlock. "Just. Sleep."

Sherlock indignantly replied that he would of course be fine and that he was fine already.

"Of course I'll be fine I am fine. I am absolutely fine!"

"Yes you're great. Now I'll be next door if you need me." John rolled his eyes and left.

Sherlock groaned again and rolled under the covers.

"Why would I need you?" he asked.

"No reason at all!" said John as he shut the door. If I could have laughed, I would have! It wasn't often that the genius detective was reduced to a babbling idiot. Except of course for when Sherlock was- I stopped that thought dead in its tracks and tried to think of something more positive.

What Donavon, Anderson or the rest of the Yarders wouldn't have given to see him like this! They had Lestrade's phone footage, though...

Suddenly, a strange noise cut through silence. Sherlock's eyes reopened and he stumbled back out from beneath the sheets towards his coat. He grabbed a phone from one of the pockets and checked a text or something. He looked momentarily shocked and gazed around the room in confusion, then returned the phone to the pocket and fell tiredly back into bed.

Sherlock's brother is such an irritating, arrogant twat! Must run in the family, I thought wryly. Mycroft, Sherlock and John were discussing the case in the living room of 221B.

"The photographs are perfectly safe." smiled Sherlock, who was reading the newspaper in our favourite chair. Mycroft sighed exasperatedly.

"In the hands of a fugitive sex worker!"

Sherlock bristled and looked up from his paper in annoyance.

"She's not interested in blackmail! She wants... protection; for some reason. I take it you stood down the police investigation to the shooting at her house?"

"How can we do anything? Our hands are tied!" Mycroft almost shouted. Sherlock smirked in amusement.

"She'd applaud your choice of words! Do you see how this works? That camera phone is her get out of jail free card! You have to leave her alone. Treat her like royalty Mycroft!" Sherlock instructed his brother, sarcastically.

John took a sip from his mug of tea and looked up at Mycroft from his chair by the coffee table.

"Though not the way she treats royalty!" he joked. Sherlock phone moaned. Mycroft and John looked around in mild confusion. I felt Sherlock's body turn still with irritation.

John stared at him and asked with mock innocence what the noise was.

"Text." replied Sherlock as he shut the paper finally and strode over to the phone to check it.

"But what was that noise?" John asked incredulously. Mycroft just watched. He was trying (and failing) to mask his interest.

Sherlock pointedly ignored John.

"Did you know there were other people after her too Mycroft? Before you sent John and I in there? CIA trained killers at an excellent guess!" Sherlock exclaimed and sat back down.

John put down his mug of tea and glared slightly at the older Holmes brother.

"Yeah thanks for that Mycroft!" he complained.

Mrs Hudson chose that tense moment to walk in with another tray of tea. John smiled his thanks and took it from her carefully.

"It's a disgrace! Sending you little brother in like that!" she scolded Mycroft whose eyes narrowed in anger at being told of by somebody who was not a family member.

"Family is all we have in the end Mycroft Holmes!" Mrs Hudson finished angrily.

"Oh shut up, Mrs Hudson!" Mycroft yelled back.

"Mycroft!" exclaimed Sherlock in mock horror. Mrs Hudson stood up in shock and looked around for reassurance from John. A very awkward silence which lasted for far too long followed Sherlock's outburst. He shifted slightly in our chair. Mycroft apologised, though you could tell he didn't really mean it.

Mrs Hudson frowned and to go to the kitchen in a rush.

"Though do in fact shut up..." added Sherlock. Mrs Hudson took no notice of him. The phone sounded again.

Mrs Hudson jumped.

"Ooh it's a bit rude that noise isn't it?" she complained.

Sherlock frowned and reshuffled the paper.

"There's nothing you can do and there's nothing she will do as far as I can see." he told Mycroft. Mycroft stood up straight and winced.

"I can put maximum surveillance on her!" he insisted pompously. Sherlock laughed slightly at his brother's expense.

"Why bother? You can follow her on twitter. I believe her username is TheWhipHand..?"

Mycroft narrowed his eyes and glared at his younger brother.

"Yes. Most amusing..." Mycroft's phone rang and he excused himself sarcastically. He walked away as he answered the phone.

"Why does your phone make that noise?" said John as he turned to face Sherlock.

"What noise?"

"That noise! The one it just made!"

Sherlock turned away from John.

"It's a text alert it means I've got a text..." he replied unhelpfully.

John raised his eyebrows. He hadn't missed Sherlock's irritation in speaking about the matter.

"Hmm... your texts don't usually make that noise..." John mused thoughtfully.

"Well, somebody got hold of the phone and apparently as a joke personalised their text alert noise!" Sherlock said irritably and picked up the newspaper.

John nodded in understanding.

"So every time they text you-"The phone moaned again.

Sherlock twitched.

"It would seem so."

Mrs Hudson complained again from the kitchen.

"Could you turn that phone down a bit? In my time of life it –"she trailed off when she realised nobody was listening to her.

John leaned back into his chair."

Because, I'm wondering who could've got hold of your phone because it would have been in your coat... wouldn't it?" John grinned as Sherlock raised the paper above his eyes in embarrassment.

"I'll leave you to your deductions..." he added mysteriously.

John sniffed in amusement and glanced at Sherlock sideways.

"I'm not stupid you know!"

Sherlock continued to hide.

"I do get that idea..." he griped.

Mycroft chose that moment to wander back towards John and Sherlock who were ignoring each other.

"Bond air is go that's decided. Check with the Coventry lot. Talk later." At the sound of his brother's voice, Sherlock raised his head in suspicion.

"What else does she have?" Mycroft pretended to not understand. "Irene Adler! The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs..?" Mycroft twitched in annoyance and glared at his brother. "There's more! Much more! Something big is coming isn't it?" Sherlock grinned in triumph and Mycroft took a step towards him.

"Irene Adler is no longer a concern of yours." Mycroft commanded. "From now on, you will stay out of this!" Sherlock got up from his chair and stood directly in front of Mycroft. The pair commenced a death stare match.

"Oh will I?"

Mycroft curled his lip.

"Yes Sherlock. You will." If looks could kill... "Now if you'll excuse me I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend."Sherlock headed towards his violin by the window and picked it up; adjusting the strings.

He smiled mockingly at Mycroft.

"Do give her my love!" Sherlock jibed. He began to play "God Save The Queen" and practically chased his older sibling out of the flat. John tried not to laugh and rolled his eyes.

Finally, it was Christmas time. Although the holiday didn't mean very much to the Holmes family, except for an exceedingly awkward meal in which Sherlock and Mycroft did their best not to murder each other in front of their mother; I was sure that John would have something special in mind. He just seemed like a Christmassy sort of person!

As it turned out, the boys did have a few people round for a drinks party. Molly Hooper and Greg Lestrade were invited. I could hear them all from the bedroom. Something must've happened near the beginning of the evening because there were a few awkward silences and Sherlock monologues. I suppose it must have worked out well in the end though because John wasn't too upset or angry with Sherlock; however he had had a few drinks by then...

Sherlock marched briskly into the bedroom towards the end of the evening clutching a camera phone and some bright red wrapping paper. He held it up to the light and seemed to examine it closely. He must have found what he was looking for because he picked the other phone, his phone, and punched in a number as fast as humanly possible. The person on the other end answered.

"I think you're going to find Irene Adler tonight." He said gravely. The other person replied. Sherlock shook his head slowly before answering slowly. "No, I mean I think you're going to find her dead."

That woman; Irene Adler; is dead. John and Mrs Hudson were discussing it all whilst they were checking Sherlock's entire room for any illegal substances... I was very glad that they didn't find anything... I hoped sincerely that Sherlock had finally given up that nasty habit of his.

John broke up with his girlfriend; Jeanette I think. Poor him. He truly did sacrifice everything to put up with the infuriating consulting detective!

Speaking of Sherlock, I'd certainly noticed a change in his behaviour. He talked less, didn't eat, ignored both John and Mrs Hudson and seemed to spend all his time writing sad music on the violin! How anybody can call him a sociopath I really don't know! He was clearly heartbroken! Whether or not he knew it himself...

Mrs Hudson went over to him and patted him gently on the back.

"Lovely tune Sherlock! Haven't heard that one before!" she commented as she walked towards the stairs, stopping on the way to pick up the laundry basket.

John put on his coat and grabbed his wallet.

"You're composing?"

"Helps me to think." explained Sherlock and he continued to play.

"What are you thinking about?" asked John. Sherlock sighed in irritation at being interrupted and put down his violin and bow rather roughly.

"The counter on your blog is still stuck at 1895!" he exclaimed. John nodded and leant towards the laptop.

"Uh yeah it's faulty... Can't seem to fix it." he told him and pressed F5 to refresh the page just in case.

"Faulty." mused Sherlock. "Or you've been hacked and it's a message!"He picked up the phone frantically and started punching in the code in an attempt to unlock it. An error sound beeped and Sherlock put the phone away in vain.

"It's just faulty. Right." he muttered and carried on playing.

John looked at him strangely then nodded.

"Right well I'm going out for a bit." He strode over to the door then stopped suddenly and took Mrs Hudson aside gently. Sherlock smiled half heartedly and I laughed silently. Did John really think that Sherlock couldn't hear him just because he was thinking about things?

"Listen... has he ever had any kind of umm, girlfriend, boyfriend, a relationship, ever?" he questioned her with exasperation in his tone.

Mrs Hudson glanced over at Sherlock in fond worry.

"I don't know." she sighed gently and shook her head in defeat.

John grimaced and looked around as if asking for help.

"How could we not know?" he gestured between the two of them.

Mrs Hudson smiled sadly and sniffed a bit.

"He's Sherlock! How will we ever know what goes on in that funny old head?"

"Right." John flicked the keys in his hand and blinked slowly. "See you."

Mrs Hudson asked if Sherlock was ok and he replied that he was fine, thank you very much. Suddenly, his whole demeanour changed as he spotted a black car that looked almost exactly like Mycroft's. Almost. A blonde woman said something to John and he grudgingly got into the car, obviously assuming that it was Mycroft "abducting" him again. John could've been in danger! Sherlock shook me off in a hurry and grabbed his coat from the hook on his door.

"Mrs Hudson!" he called. "I'm going out!"

"Alright, Sherlock! Be careful dear!" she replied and passed him the spare keys as he rushed out of the room.

All was quiet for about half an hour, then suddenly a group of armed men barged in the front door and grabbed Mrs Hudson! I had never been particularly fond of the landlady (it probably had something to do with the fact that she put me in the wash much too often!) but I still felt anger at her being mistreated.

She was dragged roughly up the stairs and shoved forcefully into Sherlock's arm chair which I was draped over. One of the men trained a gun on her and the other two stood guard by the door. I'm not quite sure what they said exactly because Mrs Hudson was sat on me, but it certainly sounded very threatening. After about ten minutes of brutal questioning and violence, Mrs Hudson burst into tears I felt her slip her hand into one of my pockets and grab the phone. I didn't know exactly what the phone was, but I knew it contained some sort of data vital to national security. I hoped that Mrs Hudson knew that, or that she at least had the sense to keep quiet. Luckily, she seemed to.

One of the interrogators suggested that they move her upstairs, away from any weapons or other objects. As if she had it in her! At least I could hear properly though.

About an hour later, I heard the door shut almost silently and guessed that it was Sherlock or John returning home. Probably Sherlock, because John always made so much noise! Sherlock stealthily crept up the stairs and entered the room upstairs. Two of the men stamped down the stairs muttering to themselves about job priorities which confused me, until I heard the sound of a car driving away. I worked out that Sherlock must have negotiated something.

I wished John would return soon; he seems to mostly be able to prevent his mad flat mate from doing anything stupid. Mostly. I heard muffled voices followed by pained cries and hoped with all my heart that it wasn't Sherlock or the old woman on the receiving end.

Everything seemed to work out in the eventually, though. Mrs Hudson seemed to have sustained no long lasting damage; however the same could not be said for the man in charge of the invasion. Or for Mrs Hudson's poor bins...

Just after 4AM a few days later, to my great surprise, Irene Adler climbed through the window and fell straight to sleep on Sherlock's bed! I was thoroughly confused and a little miffed actually... Neither Sherlock nor John had mentioned anything about it! I wondered if they even knew! That woman was nothing but trouble, in my opinion. Sherlock was hugely shaken when he found out about her "death", and now he would find out that she had faked the whole thing!

When Sherlock came into his bedroom first thing in the morning, he looked shocked to find the Woman asleep in his bed. Well, that's what you get for sleeping on the couch all night! He told John that they had a client and John laughed sarcastically back at him.

"In your bedroom?" he asked sceptically. Then John saw Irene Adler asleep in the bed.

Sherlock gently woke her up and John left the room, clearly embarrassed. Sherlock grabbed me and passed me to Irene. What? That poisonous woman? Wear me? Not a chance! Of course I couldn't actually voice my opinions on the matter.

"Good morning, Mr Homes." she yawned lazily, practically ripping off her clothes and tugging me on round her waist. No self-consciousness, of course. Sherlock frowned and asked her what she was doing in his flat.

Oh I'm sure you can work it out yourself, Mr Holmes!" she joked and followed Sherlock into the living room. Sherlock nodded thoughtfully and John sat down by his laptop; ready to take notes.

" So, who's after you?" questioned Sherlock.

"People who want to kill me."

"Who's that?

Irene thought for a moment before answering.

"Killers?" she replied as if looking for an approval for her answer.

John shifted in his chair and turned to face her.

"It would help if you were a tiny bit more specific..?" he told her sarcastically.

Sherlock was one mental leap ahead of John as usual.

"So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them..?" he deduced confidently.

Irene shrugged and smiled.

"It worked for a while."

"Except you let john know that you were alive and therefore me." he taunted. Irene laughed flirtatiously.

"Oh I knew you'd keep my secret!" she corrected him. Sherlock frowned.

"You couldn't!"

"But you did, didn't you? Where's my camera phone?" she demanded.

"It's not here. We're not stupid you know!" John told her.

"Then what have you done with it? If they've guessed you've got it they'll be watching you!" she told Sherlock, trying and failing to mask the anxiety in her tone. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"If they've been watching me they'll know that I took a deposit box on a bank on the strand a few months ago!" he reassured her. It didn't work.

"I need it!" she cried. John butted into their semi-private conversation.

"Well we can't just go and get it can we?" he exclaimed, looking towards his friend for backup; Sherlock did not oblige. "Molly Hooper... she could collect it, take it to Bart's then one of your homeless network could bring it here leave it in the cafe and one of the boys could bring it up the back!" he said, obviously pleased with himself.

Sherlock sighed appreciatively.

"Very good John! Excellent plan full of excellent precautions!"

John looked a little shocked at Sherlock's outburst. He blinked a few times before commenting again.

"Thank you, so... why don't I-"Sherlock waved Irene's phone around which he had just taken out of a drawer in his desk.

"Oh for God's sake!" John almost yelled in exasperation.

Sherlock got up from his chair and took a few steps towards Irene, who did the same.

"So, what do you keep on here? In general I mean..."

Irene crossed her arms and kept her eyes fixed on her phone.

"Pictures, information, anything I might find useful."

"For blackmail?" asked John suspiciously.

For protection!" she corrected him. "I make my way in the world, I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be.

"So how do you acquire this information?" Sherlock asked curiously.

"I told you." she said. "I misbehave."

"But you've acquired something that more danger than protection, do you know what it is?" Sherlock demanded.

"Yes. But I don't understand it."

"I assumed." sniffed Sherlock. "Show me. The pass code."

That was followed by an awkward silence during which Miss Adler extended her hand and locked Sherlock in her gaze until he gave up and passed the phone to her.

Irene smiled and typed in what I assumed was the pass code. However, a buzzer sounded and she looked up at Sherlock in bemusement.

"It's not working!" she exclaimed.

Sherlock smirked and took the phone from her, taking an almost identical one out of the other drawer.

"No because it's a duplicate I had made into which you've just entered the digits 1 0 5 8! I assumed that you'd choose something a bit more specific than that but thanks anyway." John's mouth twitched and he glanced sideways at the woman who was looking very irritated. Sherlock punched in the numbers and grinned triumphantly, but the buzzer sounded again. Irene smiled at his misfortune.

"I told you that camera phone was my life. I know when it's in my hand!"

Sherlock grinned appreciatively and looked full on at Irene, obviously impressed by her.

"Oh you're rather good!"

"You're not so bad!" she teased. The pair locked gazes and tried to read one another. John coughed suddenly to ease the tension.

"Hamish!"

Both Irene and Sherlock turned to look at him and even Sherlock looked confused.

"John Hamish Watson, just if you were looking for baby names." he added.

Irene took the phone from Sherlock and typed in the code to unlock it.

"There was a man. An MOD official and I knew what he liked. One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world; he didn't know it but I photographed it. He was a bit tied up at the time. It's a bit small on that screen can you read it?" She walked towards Sherlock and he went over to his desk and sat down.

"Yes."

"Code obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it, though he was mostly upside down as I recall... couldn't figure it out" John looked up in shock.

Irene shrugged at him unapologetically.

"What can you do Mr Holmes? Go on, impress a girl" she leant closer to him and pecked him on the cheek as John watched the scene with vigorous interest and drank the rest of his tea. Sherlock glanced sideways at Irene.

I could practically hear the cogs whirring in Sherlock's amazing brain as his eyes darted over the numbers.

Sherlock voiced his deductions quicker than he ever had before and both John and Irene froze in amazement.

"I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice." She told him lustfully.

Sherlock just stared at her.

"John, can you please check those flight schedules see if I'm right."

John cleared his throat and tore his gaze away to look down at his computer.

"Err, yep I'm on it..."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and shook his head a little bit at Irene's comment.

"I've never begged for mercy in my life!" he insisted.

"Twice." Irene told him.

John coughed awkwardly and confirmed Sherlock's observations.

"Yep, flight double o seven." he told him.

Sherlock turned to stare at John.

"What did you say?"

"You're right..?" he replied in confusion.

Sherlock started pacing up and down the room trying to think as fast as possible.

"No, no after that! What did you say after that?" he demanded.

John looked surprised. Sherlock hardy ever needed to be told anything more than once!

"007, flight 007..?" John looked slightly bemused. What did the plane number have to do with anything?

"007, 007 flight 007..." Sherlock was muttering to himself continuously.

I heard the sound of button being pressed on Irene's phone and I was immediately suspicious. A look of triumph spread across Sherlock's face as he turned to leave.

The last I saw of Irene Adler was when she was with Sherlock in the living room of 221B. They were "discussing" things and I was left out yet again. I was still very suspicious of her; a little jealous too.

I don't know exactly how the case was solved, but I remember Sherlock was ushered away by some guards and driven away. Irene followed quickly, unbeknown to Sherlock.

My suspicions were confirmed later on when I heard John and Sherlock discussing the case. Irene had been working against Sherlock all along! But she had fallen prey to sentiment; she truly had fallen in love with him. This didn't surprise me really... However what I wasn't expecting was that Sherlock was pretty smitten with her too! We left John in London and flew off secretly to the terrorist camp where Irene was being held. Sherlock saved her, and she left without hesitation to start a new life in America.

That was the end of that. Mycroft and the select few who had known about Miss Adler all believed her to be dead, including John.

But Sherlock and I knew better.


End file.
